After marrying into the great Hanlon family, divorce was the only thing she hadn’t dared to dream about. She had imagined everything else: grand galas lit by crystal chandeliers, whispered secrets traded over champagne, and the quiet power that came with an ancient, revered name. She had seen herself in glittering heirlooms, moving through marble halls with practiced grace, admired and envied in equal measure. But divorce? Never. And she would never let him consider it. Not even in his wildest, most desperate thoughts. It wasn’t about love anymore; that illusion had long since cracked. Now, it was about survival, pride, and a legacy she had fought too hard to claim. She had sculpted herself into the perfect Hanlon wife—unflinching, elegant, and cunning enough to protect what was hers. She had swallowed disappointment, buried insecurities, and smiled when duty demanded it. She had paid dearly—sacrificed dreams, bent her spirit, and burned bridges—to stand beside him under the Hanlon crest. And she wouldn’t let it all be erased by a single word: divorce. If he dared try, she would remind him—gently, or ruthlessly if needed—that leaving wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever. Never.